


Ex Tenebris ("From Darkness")

by nabokoves



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gansey Death Arc, M/M, PTSD Adam, Romance, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabokoves/pseuds/nabokoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Parrish doesn't know what it means to be in love, but he thinks he might come close with Gansey. When Gansey finally confides in Adam about St. Mark's Eve and his imminent death, the boundaries between friendship and romance become unclear. Adam struggles to reconcile his trauma with his newfound relationship with Gansey- the boy who is going to die. Meanwhile, the search for Glendower comes to a screeching halt when something darker arrives in Henrietta. AU beginning just after Blue Lily, Lily Blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Excitare (to Awaken)

**Author's Note:**

> This is planned to be a long work- not sure on exact length, but at least ten or more chapters. I'm going to do my best to release chapters every week, on Tuesdays at around 3 PM EST. Setting is post "Blue Lily, Lily Blue", but pre "The Raven King" (which will come out right in the middle of me writing this fic- how fun). My only warning for this fic is that Adam is an abuse victim, and he's going to behave and remember like one- please be careful if you are easily triggered by depictions of past abuse or disassociation.
> 
> Edit: 5/14/2017 More than a year later I've decided to continue working on this fic! Hope you enjoy c:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has a dream about kissing Gansey.

Ronan Lynch may be the expert on dreams, but Adam Parrish was the expert on nightmares. He lurched awake with a harsh _thump_ as his skull cracked on attic eaves from the force of his awakening. Cradling his head in his hand and moaning, still half asleep, Adam wondered if the day would be better if he just went back to sleep. His skin felt covered in wounds, dreamt up by his sleeping body- half-trauma, half-boy. Sometimes days just started this way, and there was nothing he could do but grow bitter on them.

Automatically, Adam did his best to recall his dream- the court therapist insisted it would be good for him. A crumpled piece of paper sat beside his mattress (it would be too kind to call it a bed). The paper detailed the exercises he was supposed to use to _process_ his nightmares. They mainly involved reminding himself that he was safe now, that the worst was over, that he would never duck into a fist again. His throbbing head hit the pillow as he gave a half-hearted sigh and searched for remnants of his nightmare.

_The trailers. Shouting. Fire- something was on fire. It was dark, but it was daytime- Adam could feel the sun. Hot, unending, makeitstop. A friend’s voice. Ronan’s? No, Gansey’s. Adam could barely see, fire and smoke and darkness. Someone’s hand. Gansey’s? Gansey’s. More shouting. His father’s voice, growing closer. Sobbing- Adam’s sobbing. Smoke in his throat. Tears in his throat. Soft voice in his ear. “Don’t worry- I’ve got you.” Relief, chilling relief. Wiping tears, looking up, strangled thoughts. Someone’s lips on his. Kissing back. Kissing like the world is ending. Kissing because the world is ending. An arm, ripping him away. Nonono. Fire. Smoke. Ash. Pain in his arm, his ear, his lungs. Adam’s screaming, drowned in the fire. A name, lungs collapsing. “ganseyganseygansey”_

Adam never noticed when he started to cry, not until the first tear hit his shirt. He forgot every _therapy exercise_ he’d ever learned and just lay there, crying. Most mornings were like this. Adam knew if he cried in the morning, he wouldn’t have the energy to cry until the next morning. It made things easier, in a way. Adam sat and let everything ravage him until he was empty, and only then did he think about his dream again. It hit him harder than a fist. _I kissed Gansey_.

Adam’s feelings for Gansey were complicated, inseparably linked to his pride. Since they’d met, Adam spent half of the time wondering what it would be like to love someone like Gansey. He knew he felt _something_ for his best friend. Adam, regrettably, knew almost nothing about love. He used to think it felt like being knifed in the gut, and then he went to therapy and learned this was called “abuse”. Now, he liked to think it felt like waking up without a concussion. Then again, he wouldn’t know about that, either.

Here’s what Adam knew: Gansey was beautiful. He was an old book nestled into a person, a secret with a body. If you turned him upside down, dust would probably fly free. Gansey hummed with something older than Glendower, buried so deep in human memory that everyone had all forgotten. Everyone except Gansey, the memory sparking in the back of his eyes. In truth, Adam got lost in those eyes, but whether it was love or awe, he couldn’t know.

A rock smacked Adam’s window, ripping him from his thoughts. At once, Adam became aware of the sun-filled room, his own body, and the persistent buzzing of his phone. _It’s Saturday. We don’t have class on Saturday…_ Adam flipped open his phone in annoyance.

gansey 9:21 am

_parrish are you awake_

 

gansey 9:23 am

_i want to go for a ride. i have something to tell you_

 

gansey 9:38 am

_i’m coming to get you even if you don’t answer_

 

gansey 9:45 am

_ok text me if you DONT want me to come_

 

gansey 9:50 am

_cool i’m on my way_

 

gansey 9:55 am

_i’m here. cmon it’s cold and i’m not getting out of my car_

 

gansey 10:02 am

_take pity on me i’m a terrible aim_

 

Adam’s heart pushed itself to impossible speeds as he opened his single, dirty window, to look down at Gansey, three stories down, surrounded by fallen stones. He broke into a smile when he saw Adam, waving a gloved hand.

“I did it!” He gestured to the stones, and Adam couldn’t help but laugh. He grabbed a clean shirt off the table and pulled it over his head even as he shut and locked the door. Climbing into the passenger seat of The Pig, Adam caught himself staring at Gansey just a minute longer than usual. Something foreign and warm swelled in Adam’s stomach, a comfortable hunger. And so it began.


	2. Timeo (I am afraid)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Gansey talk about Gansey's inevitable death over coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! i'm excited to post this chapter + there will be another one next tuesday. i hope everyone has a good week! please comment/review if you can!

Gansey drove Adam only a few blocks down the street before executing a spectacularly terrible parallel park in front of what appeared to be an empty building. Adam opened his mouth to question, but Gansey silenced him with a grandiose wave of his hand.

“They serve the best coffee here- trust me.” He climbed out of The Pig with a bounce he hoped would seem Gansey-like. Weariness ate through his heart and turned his bounce into a half-hearted stumble, but he didn’t think Adam saw. All that mattered, right now, was that Adam didn’t know anything was wrong. Gansey jogged around to Adam’s side door and opened it before his friend could even unbuckle. Too late, Gansey remembered that the  _ real _ Gansey, the Gansey Adam was expecting, didn’t agonize over Southern manners.

“Ladies first!” Gansey quipped quickly, gesturing for Adam to walk in front of him. Adam froze, expressionless, before chuckling and ducking out of The Pig. Gansey let himself breathe again.  _ Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong _ . 

“Blue would kill you for that, you know.” 

The coffee shop entrance sat underneath the sidewalk, covered in cobwebs and broken asphalt. Gansey’s Chino’s collected dust as he climbed down the staircase, and Adam let out a strangled cough. 

“God- I think I just swallowed a spider…” A minute too late, Gansey realized he should laugh. Instead, he caught a glimpse of Adam’s concerned gaze before looking down and hurriedly shoving open the door of the coffee shop.

“Welcome to McCall’s!” A girl at the counter shouted, with more enthusiasm than Gansey felt was warranted. The coffee shop was borderline frightening- the walls were the dull cement of an unfinished basement, and every piece of furniture looked like it had once been part of a bar fight. The counter girl seemed glowing in comparison- a tall red-head with curly hair and a sugary smile. 

“Coffee for me- black.” Adam put in before Gansey could say anything. “And he’ll have the hot chocolate.” Gansey stuttered at this, affronted out of habit.  _ I’m not a child! I can order for myself! _ Still, he let Adam drag him towards a table. When Adam’s hand wrapped around his arm, Gansey forgot about the ordering and instead focused all his attention on appearing indifferent. 

“What’s wrong?” Adam demanded. Gansey stared at the table. 

“I wasn’t going to get hot chocolate, you know,” he said, even though he was. Adam knew him down to the cells, but neither boy would admit it. 

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked again. Gansey leaned back in his chair, eliciting a loud creaking noise. He looked up at the ceiling tiles and let his words tumble out without really hearing them. 

“Blue saw my corpse on St. Mark’s Eve and I think I’m going to die.” He waited for Adam’s response, his whole body shivering. He waited for a barrage of questions, but none came. He met Adam’s eyes and all he saw was sadness, deeper and more potent even than his eyes on the day he left his childhood home. Adam knew, and it was Gansey’s undoing. 

A broken sob snuck out of his throat and he gave himself up to it, pulling his feet into the chair and sobbing like a child. Gansey cried as Adam pulled his chair closer to him and lay a hand on his back, as the redheaded waitress dropped off their drinks and mumbled an awkward “I’m so sorry- feel better”, as Adam drank both his coffee and Gansey’s hot chocolate. Months of secretive grief exiled themselves into tears, and Gansey did not feel free. He clawed every painful memory out of his chest and laid them in front of Adam but nothing changed, not really, because at the end of it all he was still going to die. 

“Hey- this is reasonable, okay?” Adam’s voice reminded Gansey of a lullaby. “We’re all afraid of death.” 

The empty, decrepit coffee shop blurred and swam in Gansey’s tears. He didn’t have the voice to tell Adam that he was wrong. Gansey did not fear death. Gansey knew death most intimately- death lived in him, a memory of a childhood trauma marked only by a few faint hornet scars. Gansey wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was afraid of losing things. For the first time in his life, Gansey was at a loss for words. 

How could he explain that he needed more time to watch his friends grow into gods? How he wanted- needed- to see Adam without a single bruise, an untouched angel. How death was terrifying not because he would be gone, but because nothing would go with him. The entire world would live on. As Adam’s hand stroked his back, his soothing words passing through Gansey’s ears without recognition, Gansey struggled to find the words to say, “I am afraid of losing this.”


End file.
